Rooming With a Criminal
by Averagesawce
Summary: Armin Arlert is the proud and successful owner of a major bookstore in the city. He lives a boring life in his luxury apartment in the heart of Manhattan and he wishes for a little excitement. So when the opportunity arrives in the form of a fugitive named Jean Kirchstein who asks for a place to hide from the cops, Armin is everything but excited.


**A/n: This was originally a fantasy about me and the most gorgeous animated man, Flynn Rider, but I turned it into a Jearmin fic. This is my second fanfiction so feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy!**

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It's not easy running with a satchel slung over your shoulder. It keeps hitting your side and it gets in the way. Oh, and there's also that fact that you're being chased by the cops. Seems difficult, but nobody ever said that the life of a criminal was easy.

Jean Kirchstein is a tall brunette at the young age of twenty-five and when he was younger, he was always told that he had a bright future ahead of him. He never thought that one day he would be running through the alleyways of New York City—specifically Manhattan—with the police in pursuit, after stealing the prize piece—a diamond encrusted, silver crown—of a new exhibit in the Brooklyn Museum; all in the dark of the night. The robbery wasn't easy, mind you, and Jean wasn't alone in the crime. A heist that big was not a one-man-job. However, his partners, Annie, Reiner, and Bertolt weren't the ones that got caught. They were probably driving far, far away from the museum—and the cops—in their getaway car. So in the end, Jean was left to race through the city with years of prison close behind.

Jean was unclear as to how he had gotten in this situation and the past few days were hectic. One afternoon, Annie had rung him up asking him if he wanted a job promising big payment. He didn't know if it was the fact that he was lacking cash or if it was because he lived in a dingy apartment in the Bronx, but he accepted the offer. Jean had known the three other people included in the job, so he was surprised to find out that the "job" was actually a robbery. The following days were spent on planning and Jean's friends quickly became his partners.

Tonight was the night to put the plan into action, but a major problem arose: one of the nightly guards the group was sneaking past had sneezed and Jean had said "bless you", acting on instinct. The guards saw them, they called the police, and Jean had been left to fend for himself. The brunette had been running for over two hours and he was slowing his pace as he grew more and more tired.

Currently, Jean was in the heart of Manhattan. He pushed past a crowd on the pavement and dipped into yet another dark alley between a shop with the words "Free Coffee" in neon letters on the window and an apartment building on the corner of the street. He was breathing heavily and his shirt clung to his sweaty chest. He could hear the wails of sirens close by—around a mile away and gaining. Jean knew that running wasn't the best action and that he would eventually be caught, but there were no other options he could think of.

Jean stepped in a puddle of grimy water before stopping in front of a dumpster overflowing with bags of garbage and surrounded by buzzing flies. _'I could hide in one of those.'_ Jean contemplated. _'Nah. Too cliché. And a little disgusting.'_ He decided against it and sped off again.

Just as he reached the end of the alley, Jean heard the hurried footsteps of what he assumed were some of his followers somewhere to the right of the sidewalk. "Check this alley!" A man's voice ordered.

_'Nope, nope, nope.'_ Jean backtracked. _'Think, think, THINK!' _He looked at his surroundings. A couple of dumpsters and trash cans to his right and to his left was another dumpster. But above it was a ladder and it led to a steel-grated platform. A fire escape.

_'Perfect!'_ Jean clambered onto the lid of the dumpster, avoiding the filth. He looked back to check if the cops had entered the alley, but luckily they hadn't yet. Jean reached for the lowest rung of the ladder and climbed on—which was difficult considering how high it was above dumpster. He managed to place his foot on the rusted ladder and began climbing carefully.

Jean's boot slipped halfway up, but he managed to regain his footing and resume the ascend. The policemen stepped into the dark alley just as Jean reached the first platform. He crouched behind the steel stairs connecting two platforms and watched as three men in uniforms dashed past, shining their flashlights behind dumpsters, but not bothering to check the fire escape. Jean's forehead was beading with cold sweat in fear of being spotted.

The men continued on and were now a safe distance away. Jean slowly stepped out from the shadow of the steps, making a mental 'whew'.

Jean turned around to face the windows behind him and peered through the foggy glass. The inside was dark. He tried opening the windows, but it wouldn't budge. _'It was a long shot anyway.'_ Jean stepped away from the apartment window in defeat and quietly climbed the first set of stairs.

The second set of windows were also locked so he continued up the building. Jean was desperate to sneak into a room because he was freezing and exhausted. He reached the third platform on the fourth floor. Light was coming from the windows, which was a good sign. With any luck, the person or people inside were unable to see a dirty and sweaty stranger outside their room. Jean looked through one of the windows and his mouth went into the shape of an 'o', overawed.

Jean supposed what he was seeing was a living area and he thought it was absolutely grand. In the dark wood floor was a square pit and to it's right was a black leather couch laden with red ornate pillows. Two small square tables stood on either side, both set with simple lamps. In the middle of the pit was an olive green, fuzzy throw rug with a mahogany and glass coffee table atop it, decorated with books and a stack of coasters. On the left side of the pit were two maroon leather armchairs and one had books thrown on the seat and a groove was set into it. On each of the outer corners of the pit were four beige columns that rose to the ceiling; they matched with the walls and each had hanging lamps that gave of a dull, orange glow.

To the left of the pit on the left side of the room was a wall of bookshelves with books, picture frames, and décor. A hallway led to a separate room, but Jean couldn't see it. Directly in front of him was a crimson wooden door with a golden handle. The entrance to the apartment.

On the right of the spacious room, was a kitchen with a granite island with a stove top. Three tall, white chairs were pushed in one one side. Cups, plates, bowls, and other materials were on shelves on another side of the island. In the corner of the kitchen was a silver fridge and a granite counter top with kitchen appliances spread out. There were white cabinets on the wall above the top and drawers below. A white door—the pantry—was beside the fridge. Next to the kitchen and farthest away from the window were stairs rising to a second floor. This apartment was luxury and a perfect place for Jean to crash.

He shook away his shock and reached for the window frame. Luckily, it was opened by just a crack. Jean pushed up the window and put one leg inside. The brunette looked left and right just in case before swinging his other leg over the frame and shutting the window. He was in.

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Twenty-three year old, Armin Arlert read in one of the leather armchairs under the light of one of the lamps on the column. He was resting his feet on the glass coffee table and he wore a turquoise robe to protect himself from the cold. In his hands was _The Catcher in the Rye _and on his lap was a stack of other selections from his personal library. Strands of his hair repeatedly fell over his eyes, but he simply blew them away, paying complete attention to the book.

Armin was the proud and successful owner of a very well known bookstore in the city that received fairly positive reviews. He was well-to-do thanks to the store and his apartment proved it. Today had been a busy day—busier than usual—at the store and he enjoyed several hours of reading books instead of selling them. Armin turned the page.

He lived a quiet life, void of any excitement—something he longed for from time to time. Most days were spent on the couch or in a chair reading after a long day managing the store, like today. Sometimes, Armin felt alone in his apartment. His friends, Eren and Mikasa, were part of the NYPD so the three hardly had anytime to get together and talk. Other than them, Armin had nobody to be around. It was just him and his books.

On the weekends, Armin would leave his apartment to have a walk in the park, just to breathe fresh air. The walks were fun and a couple times he had met new people—most of which he never saw again. Ultimately, his strolls were just an escape from his boring life and into the outside world. Armin wished for adventure, or at least a bit of excitement.

The small blond checked the clock on the pillar next to him. 11:57 pm. It was late, but Armin was hardly tired. If anything, he was famished. All he had for lunch was a family size bag of Lays chips (more like air) that he stored away in the bookstore, only to be used for emergencies. It was an emergency because before that, Armin had only eaten a salad for break fast. His stomach was in pain.

After deciding on fetching some snacks, Armin laid aside his books and left his seat on the armchair. He jumped out of the pit and strode over to the kitchen. He picked out a golden yellow apple from a wooden bowl on the island and examined it. Armin dejectedly returned it after realizing it wouldn't be enough to satisfy his hunger.

Armin opened the stainless steel fridge and frowned. It was empty except for some sauce and and a couple of bins of vegetables; nothing for a snack. _'Remind myself to go get groceries tomorrow.'_ He made a mental note.

Armin continued his search for food and opened the drawers then slammed them shut in frustration after finding that them, too, were empty. "I swear I had Cheetohs!" Armin growled. Then he remembered that he had brought the bag—along with a big bottle of Sprite—to his room last night for a "Lord of the Rings" marathon. He hurried to his bedroom across the living area.

Armin ran by photos of him and his best friends in the hallway connecting the two rooms and he stumbled into his room. "Aha!" he yelled in triumph. There it was: a bottle of Sprite and a family size bag of Extra Puffy Cheetohs on his bedside table. Armin walked over and snatched them into his arms. He happily skipped back to the living room, ready to continue his free time.

When Armin stepped out of the hall and entered the living room, he froze and the objects in his arms crashed to the floor. There in front of him, standing next to the window, was a man whom Armin had never seen before.

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**I swear if my English teacher read this story, she would check off so many mistakes.**


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